


The Wedding

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-04-01
Updated: 1999-04-01
Packaged: 2018-11-11 05:32:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11141982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived atDue South Archive. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDue South Archive collection profile.





	The Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

The Wedding

# The Wedding
    
    
     
    by Shinz Wong
    
    "Saintpaulia grotei."  Benton Fraser nodded in certainty as he slowly
    disengaged the entire pale mauve bloom from his buttonhole.  He put the
    small flowers to his nose and sniffed them carefully before nodding again.
    
    "They can only be found near Amani at an elevation of 3,000 feet in dense
    shade near running water.  You see, Diefenbaker, it blooms best during
    hot weather and daylight.  This particular flower is a species within
    the genus saintpaulia which in turn comes from the family Gesneriaceae,
    named after the Swiss botanist, Konrad von Gesner."
    
    The Arctic wolf looked extremely bored and turned his head away to stare
    at some wedding guests who had just walked in noisily.  Fraser became
    a little impatient at the wolf's apparent indifference to his educational
    explanation. 
    
    "They are African violets, Dief, and just because you come from the Arctic
    doesn't mean that you shouldn't learn something about them. They are
    really very fascinating.  This bloom for instance is native to the Usambara
    Mountains near Tanzania and cannot be found anywhere else in the world."
    
    Diefenbaker growled softly in disgust.  Fraser shook his head and shrugged.
    "Ignoramus."  
    
    The wolf and Mountie looked away from each other a little irritably.
    Fraser turned just in time to see a group of three women standing about
    twenty feet away eyeing him and laughing among themselves.  Their unwavering
    gazes traveled up and down his black tuxedo-clad frame as they continued
    commenting about him to each other.  Fraser reddened slightly under their
    relentless scrutiny, they were completely aware that he was aware of
    them.  He tugged at his collar unconsciously, more out of discomfort
    from the stares than from the tightness of the new suit.  As soon as
    it was polite to do so, he moved away from the spot he was standing on
    and began wandering about the hall.  Diefenbaker trailed him closely
    and once in a while put his nose to the ground to sniff for discarded
    candy.
    
    One end of the reception hall was adjacent to the church, having been
    built ten years ago for this exact purpose, to hold wedding receptions.
    Its front door led to a side entrance to the church and guests were wandering
    about on the small lawn between the two buildings.  The hall itself was
    not very large but was brightly lit and very different in design from
    the baroque influenced church.  The ceremony was to begin in an hour
    and guests were gathering in the hall to drink cups of punch before congregating
    in the sanctuary.  Fraser approached the buffet table to get as far away
    as possible from the gawking group of women and was slightly relieved
    to see Francesca Vecchio bending over a silver platter of vegetables
    and dip making small finishing touches.  He tapped her shoulder and she
    turned around absently.  Her face lit up when she saw him.
    
    "Oh Benton, you look so handsome!  I must take a picture with you and
    send it to my cousin Sophia in Florida.  She will be sooo envious."
    
    "You look very lovely yourself, Francesca."
    
    "You really think so?"  Francesca quickly stroked her hair a few times.
    
    'Yes, I do.  In fact,  you look very becoming in lavender."
    
    "I spent a hundred bucks for this dress at Loehmann's.  I thought about
    it and thought about it and finally told myself, 'Francesca, it's worth
    it.  Just buy it and take it home with ya.  You won't regret it.'  So,
    I went ahead and bought it."
    
    "You made the right decision, Francesca."
    
    "Well, thank you.  Let me tell you something Benton.  I think you are
    the best looking best man I've ever seen in my life."  Francesca smiled
    broadly up at Fraser.
    
    Fraser was searching for a suitable reply when someone cleared her throat
    behind him.  He turned around quickly and was greeted by the breath-taking
    sight of Margaret Thatcher in a beautiful pink dress with a pearl choker
    around her neck.  Her hair flowed around her face softly and he realized
    that she had permed it for the occasion.  His heart skipped a beat as
    she looked at him in her usual sardonic way.
    
    "Well, Fraser."
    
    "Uh, sir...you're early."
    
    "Yes, I am.  I like to be punctual no matter what the occasion."
    
    "Yes, ma'am.  It's a very commendable habit."
    
    "Would you escort me to my seat, Fraser?"  Fraser crooked his elbow hurriedly
    and man, woman, and wolf strolled toward the sanctuary. 
    
     "And another thing, Fraser."
    
    "Yes, ma'am?"
    
    "We are not in the office right now and I think it inappropriate that
    you should address me as your superior officer although..I am your superior
    officer but we are not in the consulate or on official business...my
    point is..I give you leave to call me by my first name..that is if you
    are comfortable calling...you may call me Meg while we are here...but
    not elsewhere..do you understand me, Fraser?"
    
    "Understood...ma'am.  Thank you kindly."
    
    Meg Thatcher sighed exasperatedly and grimaced in defeat.  Fraser led
    her to a pew and watched her settle down.  "Would you be needing anything
    else, ma'am...Meg?"
    
    She looked up at him through her thick lashes and slowly shook her head.
    Unexpectedly, both  smiled at each other at the same time.  Meg Thatcher
    picked up the program contentedly and watched Fraser depart to carry
    out his duties as best man.  On his way back to the reception hall, Fraser
    was stopped by Father Behan who looked very noble in his ceremonial robes
    but also a little anxious.  The priest clasped Fraser's arm and pulled
    him  into an alcove.
    
    "Benton, have you seen the groom yet?"
    
    "No, I'm afraid I haven't seen him today.  Has he contacted you?" 
    
    Father Behan shook his head worriedly.  "The bride's already waiting
    in the chambers."
    
    Fraser let out an "Oh dear." and reassured the priest that he would try
    to locate the missing person.  He looked at his watch and realized that
    there was only forty minutes until the start of the ceremony.  He walked
    back to the reception hall accompanied by a whining Diefenbaker.
    
    "Oh, he will be here, Dief.  Take my word for it.  He will be here."
    
    He entered the hall to a cacophony of Italian voices arguing over the
    arrangement of platters on the buffet table.  Fraser was just in time
    to see Mrs. Vecchio throw her arms up in frustration while Francesca
    shook an asparagus stick at Maria Vecchio.
    
    "No, Maria.  The asparagus does not go next to the broccoli.  You have
    absolutely no taste.  Green and green?  No, no, no.  It has to go in
    between the carrots and the cauliflower.  See..white, green, red.  Ma,
    don't touch that pat, you'll make a hole in it.  Why don't you all leave
    my table alone?  It's mine and I don't need you all telling me that you
    don't like this and you don't like that."
    
    Mrs. Vecchio spied Fraser at the door and quickly made her way over to
    him.  She smiled warmly at him and grabbed his hands.
    
    "Benton, look at her.  She won't let me help her.  She says 'Ma, help
    me.' but now she won't let me near the food.  I know about the food."
    
    Fraser squeezed her hands sympathetically and led her back to Francesca
    and her squabbling sibling.  Francesca stopped arguing abruptly and tried
    to compose herself, glaring vehemently at her sister the whole time.
    Maria Vecchio rolled her eyes and muttered, "Ay, I don't even know why
    I care." before walking away to the sanctuary.
    
    Fraser extended an arm to each woman.  "Shall we go to the sanctuary?
    It's almost time for the ceremony to begin."  They made their way over
    to the church and Fraser let Mrs. Vecchio get out of earshot before whispering
    to Francesca.
    
    "Francesca, have you seen or heard from the groom today?"
    
    Francesca's eyes widened in horror as she realized the portent of Fraser's
    question.  She pouted belligerently while her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
    "He's gotta be here.  He can't be that insensitive...the champagne alone
    costs two hundred bucks and the buffet..."  Fraser nodded quickly and
    patted her arm to calm her down.  Francesca turned to her mother indignantly.
    "Ma, he's not showing.  After all my hard work waking up at three for
    the last two days, he's not gonna show."
    
    Mrs. Vecchio hushed her youngest daughter and calmly picked up a program.
    Her mother's dignified demeanor had a cooling effect on Francesca and
    after a few moments, the younger Vecchio picked up a program herself.
    In another few minutes, she grew uneasy again.  She turned to her mother
    sulkily.  "Ma, where's Ray?  Isn't anything going right today?  My dessert's
    ruined, my buffet's ruined too."  Her mother hushed her again and smiled
    complacently.  "He'll show."
    
    Fraser checked his watch repeatedly as he and Diefenbaker waited by the
    main entrance to the church.  As he was coming out, he had spotted the
    bride standing forlornly looking out to the street through a stained
    glass window.  Fraser had smiled gently at the pretty blond woman and
    made an all's-well gesture to her.  But all doesn't appear to be well.
    The guests were already inside the church, the bride was waiting to walk
    down the aisle but the groom was nowhere to be found.  The ceremony was
    scheduled to start in two minutes.  The church clock chimed the appointed
    hour, eleven  and at the same moment, tires screeched to a jarring halt
    in front of the church.  Fraser walked quickly down the steps to the
    Riviera as Ray opened the door.  Fraser could see that his friend was
    a little out of breath.
    
    "Ray, you're late."  Fraser said in a scolding tone.
    
    "Yeah, Benny.  You're not gonna believe what I'm going to tell you. 
    He was directing traffic down at the corner of Lanier and Cardon.  I
    had to drag him away and man-handle him into the car to get him here."
    
    Fraser nodded comprehendingly as the passenger door of the Riv opened
    to reveal a very unruffled looking Constable Turnbull, his deputy at
    the consulate and the only man capable of driving Benton Fraser stark
    raving mad.  The younger Mountie brushed his hand over his red serge
    and adjusted his collar.  Then, he walked smartly up to Fraser and saluted
    him 
    
    "Glad to see you here, sir.  I am honored that you can be my best man.
    And I am very grateful to you sir, Detective Vecchio, for finding me
    a priest and a caterer on such short notice.  Now, if you'll excuse me,
    I have to go to my wedding.  I  hope to see you both there.  The ceremony
    has...just  begun."  He checked his watch and nodded positively.
    
    Fraser protested in a slightly harsh tone.  "You were supposed to be
    wearing a suit."
    
    Turnbull gave another few brushes to his red serge before saying.  "Ah,
    the uniform.  I thought I'd give my wife a surprise.  Red turns out much
    better on wedding photographs, don't you think?"  With that, he walked
    briskly to the steps of the church, climbed them and entered the building.
    Fraser and Ray stood in silence and watched him disappear into the church.
    Then, they looked mutely at each other.  Ray rolled his eyes while Fraser
    looked resignedly at the ground. The two men then walked slowly toward
    the church. 
    
    "Did you get the ice cream, Ray?  Francesca was getting worried." 
    
    "Ah, she worries too much.  So what if her cherry pie has no a la mode,
    who cares?"
    
    "This is her first big catering engagement, Ray.  I believe that the
    absence of ice cream on the pie will detract from the general favorable
    impression that she hopes to achieve, not forgetting that she'll also
    not forgive you which will lead to a certain displeasure on your part
    for several months to come.  So, you did get the ice cream."
    
    "Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Here it is.  See?  Vanilla, like she said."
    
    "Very well.  And Dief, do you have the ring?"
    
    Diefenbaker pranced alongside him with a red velvet pouch clenched between
    his fangs.  The wolf growled in the affirmative.
    
    "Very good.  Don't drop it.  We want to get Turnbull safely married and
    on his way without further mishap."
    
    Fraser held the door open and let Ray and Diefenbaker enter the church
    before going in himself.
    
    DONE
    
    

* * *


End file.
